


Alex's 7th Breakdown

by Addyelf22



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Surpher
Genre: Minecraft, Original Fiction, Original Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 03:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30048915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Addyelf22/pseuds/Addyelf22
Summary: Alex hasn't been doing so hot lately.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Alex's 7th Breakdown

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning for dissociation-ish feelings and sleep deprivation!  
> This takes place a little while before the Malignance began to spread.

Fate is a strange thing.

The taste of invisibility potion is heavy and sweet on Alex’s tongue. What day is it? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what “day” is. From his position, crouching on wooden floorboards, he leans forward. He loses balance and his hand lands heavily on a pile of papers, then slips. He falls forward and onto his side. He lies on the floor...except the floor is paper...the paper is on the floor. Yes: he lies on piles and piles of sheaves and sheaves of paper in clusters and drifts on the wooden floor.

The smell of ink and paper makes Alex want to sneeze, or cough, or throw up. He still doesn’t know what day it is, but he knows it isn’t day. It’s night. He knows this because his eyelids skid shut and he jerks them open. His body says, _please, please, sleep._ But his mind says _no._ He crawls to his knees again, jolted with fear after almost falling asleep. He can’t sleep. If he does, who knows what could happen? So many things. Stars could arrive here and find him, sprawling on the floor like a useless, dead fool. He might wake up with strands of warp choking his neck and creeping into his lungs. He might wake up to find Butter leaning over him, smiling, offering to _buy_ his insomnia with a voice so familiar it was unsettling. He just needs something to keep his mind off of sleep, yes. Something...he reaches for a can and finds it there, but it’s empty. He clambers to his feet, dragging himself up with the support of an armchair behind him, and crawls to the kitchen to fetch another one. He tips his head back.

The taste of the energy drink is polarizing and too familiar in Alex’s mouth. He realizes it was never the invisibility potion at all - in fact, he’s been covering up the bitter taste of the invisibility potion with the cloying sugar of the energy drink. He returns to the floor, the other room. He needs something to do, to keep him awake. What was he doing in the first place? ...ah...of course. Taking notes. He shoves back a curtain of heavy, unkempt hair and reaches for a piece of paper. He has to squint to read it, which only fuels his fear and paranoia. What if he’s going blind? He’s an excellent shot, and his eye for architecture is unmatched...he can’t be losing his vision. Not now of all times, when everything is closing in on him, enemies on every side. Who would protect Neolympus? Who would keep his family safe?

The paper is rough to Alex’s shaking fingertips. He tries to read, but all he sees are stilted lines in frantic script. _List of potential enemies: Stars. Palm. Coffee. Jae. Doomed. Hades. Surph? Butter? The Warp._ _Study the Warp._ _What_ _is_ _it? Talk to gardeners. Visit Jae again. Interrogate Jae? Visit Manberg? Look for Sarah? Investigate Fox’s grave? Summon Fox? Gravedigging? Who can I trust? No one. Neolympus headquarters. Hide my keys._ _WHAT HAPPENED TO THE KEY I LOST? WHO HAS IT? INTERROGATE NEOLYMPIANS? INQUISITION? HIRE GUARDS?_

As Alex’s hands tremble the paper slices his palm neatly, just on the web of his thumb and forefinger. He drops it, quivering more violently, and sucks hard on the cut to stop the bleeding. The blood tastes coppery and hot, disgusting, also bitter and smoky. He tries to think. Maybe someone else is around. He could ask Cadmium to take a turn staying awake, or he could ask Addy to help him organize his notes. He should probably take them back to the headquarters anyway. Wait. Where is he?

The wooden floorboards, lovingly smoothed and fitted perfectly together, are suddenly as familiar around Alex as his own body usually is. He’s...home. In the Patchworkfam mansion. He closes his eyes and sighs in relief, feeling a little calmer as he leans back against the velvet armchair he sits in front of. He’s been sitting here, on the floor, writing. Staying awake, and going invisible intermittently. That explains the ink and gunpowder stains on his cold fingers, now accompanied by his fresh paper cut, and the odd taste in his mouth. He knows what he was doing. He knows that it is night. He knows where he is. Where he is…

Cold and galvanizing fear strikes Alex at the same time as a gust of wind from the backdoor behind him, which he all at once realizes is open. _Who is watching over Neolympus?_ If he is here, then who is standing guard over his people? Shaking more now, he climbs to his feet, stuffing fistfuls of paper into his coat and pants pockets. He isn’t even sure whose coat he’s wearing, but luckily it has big pockets. On top of the paper, to keep it tamped down, he puts another energy drink. He turns and slams the backdoor shut, turning the key to lock it. It takes several tries to even get the key in the lock. Once this is done, he gathers as much of the rest of the paper as he can into his arms and carefully sets his teleporter to _/warp Neolympus._

The void is freezing and black, and Alex is doing nothing but _falling._ He knows it isn’t real, he tries to remind himself that it never is, but when he lands hard on the marble floor of the Neolympus warp he can barely make it to the edge of the stone platform before retching into the flowers. Not much comes up. He can’t remember eating anything but energy drinks and potions. He can’t remember _sleeping._ But he can’t sleep. If he does, who will be awake to guard his people?

The night wind swishes around his ankles as Alex wanders through the city. He trips along the cobblestones and paving of the paths, but picks up every page of paper he drops with fearful movement. He can’t afford to let one secret slip, can’t afford to let one thing fall. It is a balancing act, and right now, he’s failing completely. All he can do is clean up after himself, and barely that. He makes it to the community house - community gazebo, rather - and drops his burden for just a moment. He rifles through the shelves and crates until he finds one labeled “FREE FOOD” and takes out a round of bread, still not stale, to gnaw on for a moment.

The bread is good, crunchy and sharp crust and soft chewy inside grounding Alex as he eats it. He leans against the wall of boxes as he does, but it isn’t long before his chewing slows and his eyelids droop again. He digs nails into his arm, trying to wake himself up, and stands up slowly. He looks around with bleary eyes. _Where can he go?_ He can’t stay here, in the open. Any late-night wanderer or builder will see him crouching on the floor of the community house surrounded by paper and think the founder of their beautiful city is a madman. He could go to Hal’s inn or Addy’s house, but he didn’t want them to see him like this. He had to keep it together. All he needed was a place to stay, to sit awake and organize his notes. His notes...of course- the secret headquarters. He stumbles back to the warp point and opens the ender chest there. He knows no one but him can see what’s inside, but still, his fingers shake and his eyes dart around peering into the darkness. Finally he looks inside.

The black velvet lining of the box is soft on the back of Alex’s hands as he reaches into it. He picks up his key and closes the box, clutching it in his hand until the spikes begin to prick his palm. He limps over to the elevator, at last, shoving papers which fall from his arms onto the platform. Finally he inserts his key into the artfully hidden crack at the base of a pillar and pushes a button, stepping back onto the platform.

The elevator lurches downward, pistons rushing, sounding deafening to Alex after the silent night above. He sinks into the base, leaving his stomach behind, as the marble ground rises up to meet him and the light of torches blind his haggard eyes. Finally he reaches the bottom and gathers the paper one more time, pages falling down around him from where the blew as the elevator dropped. He grabs the last note as the elevator starts up again, moving in fitful bursts. He collects his key from where the lock had spat it out inside the base, and tucks it reverentially into his enderchest again.

Alex’s eyes burn with tiredness and brightness as he pulls himself up the stone steps to the headquarters’ office area. He settles at last in a desk chair, depositing papers onto the table and the floor around him. He tries to read, but before he knows it, his head is on the table. This time, a weary tear escapes his eyelids as they finally close. He can’t force them open this time, his mind finally sucked down into a dark void eerily similar to that of teleportation.

Alex falls asleep with his head resting on the uncomfortable surface of a desk in the Neolympus secret headquarters, bleeding sluggishly from one hand. In sleep, tension falls from his face and shoulders. He sighs a little and slumps further onto the desk. Another paper slips from his pocket to the floor. Without the paranoia and fear of his insomnia, prolonged by energy drinks and poisoned by lack of food or sleep, he looks much more peaceful. His shoulders rise and fall and his breath is even.

For days Alex has been the strong one. He’s been the father of the family. He planned the secret headquarters. He forged the keys. He built the elevator. He swore his allegiance to Stars. He bore her smirks and her confidence, the mania in her eyes as she looked at him, when both of them knew she was in control. He bore Palm’s empty eyes when she demanded to know who he would side with Stars against her. He bore the worry on Addy’s face as she built the community house and welcomed newcomers to Neolympus. He bore his own panic and stress as he planned late into the night, writing notes and pinning things to the headquarters’ walls, trying to forge some path which wouldn’t lead to war. He found himself on the floor of his old home, buried in the manifestation of his own paranoia, unable even to rest for fear of his family being hurt.

But right now, Alex is sleeping. He isn’t the strong one, the father, the protector. Right now Alex is just another tired Neolympian, asleep at his desk. Right now, Alex doesn’t stir when someone drapes a blanket over him and returns to the surface of Neolympus to keep her own silent watch over the sleeping city.

**Author's Note:**

> Alex chose the title because it not only implies that his character has had several breakdowns but will have more. When I wrote it the doc was titled "pov rp!alex has a breakdown."
> 
> If you're interested in the server check out @surphmespicy and @sezzie.ezzie on Instagram. More Surph server content potentially coming soon!


End file.
